


A Moirail Takes Care

by RyMagnatar



Series: Admiral Ampora [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Admiral Ampora, Cockblocking, F/M, M/M, Slavery, Virtual Reality Car Crash, and also in space, far into the future, past mentions of johndave no im not taggin that ok, semi-public blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're an admiral now and still you have to deal with his bullshit. Strider just doesn't like making your life easy and now you have to figure out what to do with him. Thankfully, you have a moirail brimming with brilliant ideas in her bright eyes. You don't know what you would do without her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Walks Candy

The low lights are on in the dining hall tonight as you make your way into the room. It’s just after the time when the bar closes, all the other officers and crew that are not on duty have slunk back to their beds and one lone figure stands behind the bar, washing a glass and humming to herself.

Roxy Lalonde looks up with eyes like bubblegum balls, shining in the light and as warm as her curling smile. You slide onto the stool before the bar and lean forward, smiling back at her. You can’t not smile in her company.

Her soft blonde hair falls into her face as she ducks her head in a quick acknowledgement of your rank but her fearless, joyful smile doesn’t fade for a moment. Without a word she mixes up two martinis, pours them out and slides one glass over to you. You laugh, soft and private as she hops up onto the bar, holding the other glass in her hands, and she stirs with the speared olive.

You sip from your own drink, barely registering it at all, and reach out a hand to rest against her warm thigh. She reminds you of Rose, from so long ago. She’s smart like Rose was, and has the same sort of soft hair and soft skin and laugh that’s a treasure all in its own, but where Rose was cool lavender and chilly analysis, Roxy is bright pink and comforting advice.

(Even though it was Rose, _Rose_ , who advised you to make the best choice for yourself, to find out if there was commitment in Dave, to push until you got your answer. It was Rose who suggested you enlist a couple decades early. It was Rose who advised you to consider your options, carefully. It was Rose who told you that you were blinded by your affection. It was Rose who warned you that he wouldn’t change until something forced him to.)

Roxy uses one hand to hold her drink and the other she reaches over and smoothes your hair back into place around your horns. “There’s been quite a buzz about the little stowaway, Cap’t. Is it true that you know the human boy?”

You look away, but reply, “I know him. I know him far too well.”

“A lover?” she asks, “a red lover?”

You nod.

“Oh _darling_ ,” her words are soft and so is her embrace. Her arms wrap around your head and shoulders and you press your face to her abdomen, one arm tight about her waist while the other holds your glass with tense fingers. She strokes your hair with one hand, murmuring gentle, loving words and for the first time since you saw Dave again, you allow yourself tears.

Roxy holds you and lets you cry against her. When you have had your fill of tears, you pull your head back to discover she has finished her drink as well as yours. With her thumb she wipes away purple streaks and lifts your chin with her fingertips, “Now you know that getting drunk won’t make you feel any better about these series of events. How were you to know that an old red lover would come aboard your ship? He’ll find his place here! He’ll be fine.”

You close your eyes, “He doesn’t want to stay. He-,”

You should have reconsidered other options. You should have waited until you were calm to think of them, waited until he was calm to give them to him.

“He wants me to sell him.” Your voice is tiny, but she hears it anyway and gasps because of it. “He doesn’t want to be near me, or see me again, he just wants to leave and I-,” your voice stops and she waits for it to start again in silence, “I only gave him the bad options. Because I wanted him to stay. Because I wanted to make him mine. Completely.”

She leans down and kisses the top of your head. There’s a small clink noise as she sets down her glass. “Come on love, I know what will make you feel better.”

She slides from the bar and, holding your hands in hers, leads you from the dimly lit room. She is so slender, her hand so small in yours, but her smile is big enough for a dozen people- even when it’s sad around the edges.

You know where she’s taking you long before you get there. The few guards and service men you pass say nothing, just flash a quick salute in acknowledgement of you as you move by. Most humans aren’t allowed in this part of the ship, up here where you have the quarters of the officials, and many of the workrooms for those aboard.

But then most humans didn’t have an Admiral for a moirail. Roxy had always enjoyed benefits that came from being a superb bartender and confidant of the men, but when you accepted her offer to become moirails, she became the freest human on board. Yet she still acted as before, never wandering where humans wasn’t supposed to be, never getting in the way.

And she was the best moirail you have ever had.

It was a shame she would live such a short life, compared to your own.

Roxy slips her hand from yours as she dances up the last few steps to the door leading to your quarters. She stops at the keypad long enough to punch in the numbers- this time it only takes her two tries- and then beckons to you as the door opens. You know she’s older than Dave was (is) but that doesn’t stop her from giggling like a child as she leads the way into your quarters.

The antechamber has been refurbished in a few places, with a chair and your desk replaced. Even though only a chip of wood had been cut out of the latter, it was enough for you to want a new one. You could do with as few reminders of swords and swordsmen as possible.

She doesn’t even stop, just continues to the door in the back and through it to your bedroom beyond. You lock up behind yourself as you follow her inside. Upon your first step into your inner room, you get a face full of soft black cloth. It’s her shirt.

On the floor are her pants and shoes and she’s throwing back the covers of your human style bedding and reaching into the drawer of the nightstand to pull out a sopor patch for you. With a sigh, you begin to unbutton your jacket. Roxy lounges on your bed, playing with the wrapper and smiling at you. Her underclothes are a mismatched set of a bright green bra and orange polka-dot panties. Her ease at being naked in your company had been a surprise in the beginning of your relationship and often you wondered about it, but then-

Some humans simply were at ease with their bodies, and you had decided Roxy must have been one of them.

Considering you had two more layers of clothing on than she did, it took you longer to strip down bare. She smiles up at you as you climb into the bed over her. With a slap, she puts the sopor patch on your shoulder and then tugs you down onto the bed. Her body is like a bundle of coals, burning hot under your touch and twisting around until you are both comfortable.

You rest your cheek on her bare shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in her scent- booze and perfume. She kisses one of your horns and runs her fingertips along the ridges of your earfins. “Feel better?” Her breath is warm, just like the rest of her, and makes you sigh in pleasure. You melt into her touch and nod just a little.

“Hmm,” is your only verbal reply. You take advantage of her warmth and her touch and slip into easy sleep, your mind lulled by her presence and by the patch equally.

* * *

The sound of typing wakes you. Eyes still closed, you reach your hand out to feel for the warm body of your moirail. Nothing but cool cloth reaches your searching fingers. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to see the blue glow of a husktop screen lighting up Roxy’s pale face across the room at your desk.  

“Rox?” speech is hard in your sleep dried mouth and your tongue feels too heavy, too big. “What are yah doin’ up?”

Her pink eyes glint strangely in the computer light. For a moment there is silence, except for the tapping of her fingers on the keys as she watches you. Then she smiles and unfolds her legs from the chair and stands up. “I’m fixing your love problems, darling.” She closes the computer and comes over to the bed once more. “Being a good moirail for you.”

“I’m fixing all our problems,” she murmurs softly into your hair. You wrap yourself up in her warm arms and against her soft chest. She pets your hair with one hand, trailing fingertips up along the underside of your horn. You chirr gently, closing your eyes once more. 


	2. Physical Exchanges

When you wake again, and completely, Roxy is once more out of the bed.

She’s dressed in one of your civilian shirts. It’s loose on her slender frame, the buttons gleaming in the fluorescent light and the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she bends over to pick up clothing that you or her left on the floor, you see a glimpse of those orange polka-dot panties. That makes you smile, and stirs something in you that you thought wouldn’t stir until long after this business with Dave was done.

The thought of him does bring a sour taste to your mouth, but you look at Roxy’s bare thighs and sigh, to get rid of it.

She stands up and twists around, a devious smile on her face like she knows where you were looking, and an armful of your clothes. “Oh good, you’re awake!”

Dumping the clothing on a chair, she snatches up the husktop from your desk and practically skips back to the bed. You barely pull back the blankets in time before she’s scrambled onto your lap. She sits with her back against your chest and her perfect little ass square on your crotch. Languidly, you put one arm around her waist and stroke her side with your fingertips.

The screen of the husktop is blue, except for a small white bar where it awaits your password. Roxy covers her eyes with both hands and smiles, “Password please!”

You can’t help but laugh, pressing a kiss under her earlobe and with your free hand you type in the password. It’s all for show, in your mind. Even if she could get in without you there, what could she possibly do with your personal computer? It was disconnected to everything aboard the ship, didn’t even have your work files on it, all you used it for was music or entertainment streamed from the subnet.

Once it loads completely, Roxy drops her hands from her eyes and cracks her knuckles. “So, do you remember last night?”

You shake your head. You’re too busy with the smell of her hair and skin to care remembering about some half-awake-half-asleep time. Did she use your shower again? How did your products always smell so different on her skin? It was wonderful. She laughs at you and types away, pulling up the subnet browser and going to some site she must remember from the top of her head.

A careless glance at the screen becomes a much more careful look as you notice the page. It’s a human trading site; a slave for slave trading forum. You’ve heard of them but you’ve never visited one before. All the humans aboard your ship are your responsibility, but they are owned to the military, and therefore, the empire.

Roxy leans her head back against your shoulder and says, with a relieved tone you don’t understand, “The stowaway is technically your own slave, since you are the one who decided to put him into bondage, instead of the military rounding him up like it did for me.” There’s a pause there. You tighten your arm around her waist to tell her you don’t care if she was slave or not.

Her fingertips lightly stroke the back of your hand before going back to the computer. “So what you can do is find someone who takes good care of slaves, but is looking for something fresh. Here, look at this troll.” She pulls up a profile from a few short clicks. In the image for the profile itself is a woman with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. You can’t see her horns, but for a moment you’re struck with the memory of Vriska.

The laughter bubbles up in your chest, but you squash it with a hard swallow. Wouldn’t that be insane? To pawn Dave off to Vriska? You drag your gaze from her face to the list of eight humans she has below. At first, none catch your eye. They’re tanned or dark skinned or fair, with multiple shades of hair color as well. Clearly this blueblood liked her slaves.

Then Roxy points to the screen, her shining skyblue fingernail guiding your eyes to a specific line.

_“Trades preferred: Freshly made human slaves, to the point where they have received little to no instruction. Trades are done type for type; black with black, blonde with blonde. No exceptions.”_

With a flick of her fingers, Roxy scrolls the screen down to the bottom, the last human on the list.

A man with pale skin, white-blonde hair and red-orange eyes stars up at you from a small square on the screen. Your breath catches in your throat as though you’ve utterly forgotten how to breathe, and you tighten your grip around Roxy.

“Eridan,” She squirms against you, “Your arm, Eridan!” You can barely hear her voice. She pinches the side of your leg sharply with her nails.

Jolting from your shock, you release your arm from around her middle and apologize instantly. She gives you a light smile and pats your cheek to calm you. The pain of the pinch doesn’t lingers.

“I take it this one caught your eye?” She gestures to the blonde man. You nod. How similar he looks to Dave. The trade would be easy. “You want to set up a trade with her?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Was this woman good enough for your Dave? Was replacing him the right idea? You could just sell him to the highest bidder-

Then you stopped. You could see it in your head. Dave dressed in nothing but tight boxers to show off his body, standing on a stage, surrounded by invisible buyers- put on display like a beast at auction and-

Swallowing down bile in your throat, you nod your head. You barely notice the soft sigh she gives, as though she had been holding her breath and waiting on you. Closing your eyes, you bury your face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, focusing on the solid warmth of her body, and you allow her to type away. You don’t care what she has to do, to set up, to get this trade, all you care for is the sound of her breathing, the typing of her fingers and the way you can feel her pulse through her neck, if you want to.

And you do, you do want the distraction. Dave has been consuming your mind for far too long. So you kiss along her neck, pull the collar of the shirt and kiss there as well. She laughs as you suck marks onto her skin, but her fingers never stop typing.

You’re sliding your hand up and under the shirt she wears, tracing familiar outlines of her abdomen, and only hesitate when your reaching fingers reach the soft, yeilding warmth of her bare breasts. That’s when you laugh, chuckling into her neck. She knows you better than you know yourself, sometimes.

Cupping her breast in one hand, you kiss up and under her ear again. You mean to whisper something to her, but she twists her head and whispers first.

“There. Done. Now all we wait is for confirmation and then a location for exchange,” her lips are barely an inch from yours and when she smiles, you can feel it better than see it. She glances off to the side and then looks back at you and the devious look in her eyes you can clearly see. “We do have some time before you have to report for duty, Admiral.”

You reach out a hand, push the husktop away, and then help her twist around on your lap to face you. She kisses you first, her mouth sweet and warm, so human, and she giggles into the kiss as you slide your hands up her thighs.

Rolling over, you decide sitting is overrated and pin her to the bed instead. Then it’s only a matter of kisses, touches and her soft fluttering sighs before your bulge is twisting out, slick and eager. She shimmies out of her panties with a grace you envy and an ease you know is partially your fault. They go sailing off the bed, not that you even spare them a glance, and then her thighs are up along yours and she’s opened herself up to you in a way no troll could.

There’s no time to pull off the shirt, and frankly you don’t care if it stays on her, before you’re rocking against her, then within her and kissing her furiously as you do. She makes noise, so much noise, from sighs to moans to half words cut off by kisses. She rolls her hips against yours, squeezes her legs around you and drags you closer and closer, deeper into her embrace.

You kiss her fervently. Everything that you can’t give to Dave, you give to Roxy; you give her your body, your heart, your utter devotion and attention.

The look on her face when she arches her back and shudders around you in ecstasy is all you need in return.

* * *

“Sir, we’re docking now.”

You nod in acknowledgement but don’t turn from the observatory window. Dressed, with a tasteful amount of awards pinned to your breast, you watch the purple gates part and extend out the hooks that will connect too and hold your ship in place. You don’t feel any vibrations as your ship’s hull touches the spacestation’s and they lock into place.

A little leave time on this station would boost morale in the crew. There was a little for everyone at this particular station, The Holdfast, and when you had found out this was your destination for the trade you saw your navigator high-fived his neighbor out of the corner of your eye.

“Is the slave ready for transport?”

“Yes sir. He’s waiting for you with the escort.”

You turn from the window, “Make sure the men know we’re on rotation and we’ll be staying here for a week, I don’t want the ship fully empty at any time.”

“Of course sir.”

You straighten your jacket and nod again. “Good.”  You walk past him and too the door. It slides open and Roxy’s waiting inside with a delicate hand wiggling her fingers hello at you. There’s a guard standing next to her, one of those young ones, new ones, you got with the latest batch of soldiers. “Petty Officer Hyanei.”

He snapped up a sharp salute, “Admiral sir!”

Roxy giggled. “How cute. He insisted I couldn’t wait alone in the elevator for you, hon, said it was improper for a human to be up on the upperdecks alone.” She slinks up beside you as the doors to the elevator shut. Even in her standard slave attire, dark pants and a black shirt with red stripes on the sleeves, she moves like a cat, all fluid and grace. She smooths your coat with one hand and curls her fingers around your hand with her other. “It’s been a long time since you let me off the ship.”

“You’re letting her off the ship?”

You look to the petty officer, who’s wide eyes of fear tell you he just realized that he questioned you. Indirectly, of course, but he still did. “S-sir I-,” You narrow your eyes at him, just to see if he’ll jump. He does.

Roxy steps in front of you and, patting your arm gently, says, “He is a precious wriggler still, don’t punish him for a loose tongue!” She’s smiling at you, soft and sweet, and there’s humor in her eyes. You relax your shoulders, but make a big show of sighing heavily and cupping her cheek.

“Only because you’re here, dove.” You murmur and she leans into your touch.

You can feel the tension pour out of the petty officer. The elevator stops and the doors open. You step out with Roxy on your arm. At the end of this hallway is a door, one of the few that led to the connecting dock between your ship and the Holdfast. There are two guards waiting, both bluebloods, and Dave standing between them. He looks up at you then back to the floor. He does a double take, though, and you see him staring at Roxy with a confused, shocked expression.

Roxy doesn’t so much as glance at him, though. She greets the guards and giggles at your side. She goes quiet when you address the two guards. “This should go very quickly. We will make the exchange and then you two will bring back the new acquisition to the ship.” You lift your chin a little and add the incentive, “Keep things simple and smooth and yourselves out of trouble and there will be a nice reward.” They straighten up at your words.

To Roxy you say, “Now mind yourself, love.”

“Oh dear,” she says, “then I should get this out of my system right now!”

You barely have time to arch an eyebrow before she steps up on her tip toe and, with a gentle tug to your collar, she pulls your head down to her level. She kisses you like that, ignoring the guards, ignoring Dave and just kissing you deeply. You feel her tongue against your lips and think to hell with it all and open your mouth to her. She makes that soft sound like she’s trying to giggle and after a few more seconds she draws back. She licks her lips and winks. “Okay, I’m good now.”

Your guards just look amused, but Dave’s cheeks are flushed red and he’s glaring at you like he wishes he could stab you violently. You think without the cover to his mouth he would probably be sneering insults at you. “Keep a half step behind me, Rox,” you say to her, “an this should go simply.”

She nods and follows you as you walk to the door.

The five of you step out of the door and to the channel that leads to Holdfast. You lead the way, smiling a little at the glimmers of stars and space you see through the windows along the tunnel. Once you’re through the door at the far end, though, you enter a whole different world.

Everything is alive on the inside of Holdfast. It’s a popular place to visit and to live. Even when there are no ships at port it’s busy. You remember when this place used to be nearly empty, nothing but the bare bones needed to crew the station itself. Then the military changed the management and that brought a change in the atmosphere. Now it is one of the busiest space stations around.

You pull out your phone. When it looks like you’ve automatically connected to the subnet here you pull up the directions to the meeting place. News is streaming on the side of your screen, but you’re more interested in the directions. You turn to the left and head to the stairs to the level above.

Winding your way through the space station, you’re thankful you wore your uniform. People pull out of your way when they see you coming and don’t question you.

The section that you end up reaching is dimmed to the proper eyesight of trolls. You step into a little business that turns out to be a bar and look around. Roxy tugs lightly on your sleeve, getting your attention, and gestures to a booth. You’ll never know how she can see so well in the dark, but she can see better than you at times. You nod your thanks and head over towards the table.

Two people sit at the table. The troll woman you messaged to meet with and what you can only guess is the slave. He has the light hair of the man in the picture. He’s got broad shoulders and closed eyes, so you can’t be sure, but you know in your gut its him.

The woman, the commander of Holdfast, sits at the table with horns like Vriska and a smile like Rose. She looks up at you from glasses shaped like teardrops and gestures beside her. “Admiral, please, sit.”

You take a seat across the table from her. She looks over at your companions and smiles. “I take it the male is the one you wish to trade?”

“Yes, as I said in the messages,” that Roxy wrote.

She turns a curious look to Roxy, “Then you bring the female to check for compatibility, I’m assuming.” She chuckles, “They look similar, the pair of them. And much like the one that I have.” She lifts her hand and gestures to the human beside her.

“You don’t plan to breed them now, do you? Certainly you have the time, but it is difficult with only a single pair.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No. This is simply my…housekeeper, if you will. She will be in charge of him and if she doesn’t like him I will have to cancel the trade.”

The woman lifted her eyebrows, “You would cancel a trade based on the opinion of your slave?”

“Yes.”

She watches you in silence for a while and then laughs. It’s a soft sound, and also reminds you of Rose. She’s all the calculation your old friend was, but in a troll’s dangerous body. She turns to the human beside her and says, “Dirk, go make nice with the girl.”

He opens his eyes slightly. They’re a burning orange. They’re glass orbs of amber. They’re the sun.

They slide right over you and look to Roxy, who waggles her fingers in a wave. The man, Dirk, scoots closer to Roxy and asks her something in a language that you don’t understand. You frown, look to the woman, but she just smiles.

When Roxy whispers back in that same language, and the two of them laugh, your suspicion only grows. The woman catches your attention with a tap of her nail on the glass. “You’ve heard of it, haven’t you? The mash up language the slaves created? They don’t use it much around trolls, so your girl must truly trust you. As my Dirk trusts me.”

“I have heard of it,” you reply stiffly, but that hadn’t meant you believed it was true.

“In any case, let me examine what you’ve brought me.”

Dirk switches around to your side, talking with Roxy softly. She seems to do most of the talking, though. The woman now slips out from her side of the booth and stands. She walks a circle around Dave, looking him up and down. “He’s in good shape. Surprisingly good shape. How did you say you got ahold of him again?”

“I didn’t.” You reply.

She looks at you from the corner of her eye, her fingertips on Dave’s jaw. “He stares like he doesn’t know his place. An interesting one.”

She stands in silence for a while more before sitting down again. “I like him. As far as I am concerned this trade is satisfactory.” She pats the booth beside her self, “if you agree, let your boy come sit with me. I won’t need any guards.”

You look to Roxy. She’s got her fingers interlaced with Dirk’s and she smiles. “He’ll be perfect for you, sir.”

You nod and then motion to your guards. They push Dave down into place beside the woman.

Her blue eyes are laughing as she sips her drink. She offers you her hand, “Pleasure to do business with you, Admiral Ampora.”

“And with you, Commander Serket.” Dirk and Roxy slip from the booth and you follow. You nod your head towards the woman and she lifts her glass to you. Stepping away from the table you open your mouth to tell your guards to take Dirk back to the station when Roxy clears her throat.

She’s still holding Dirk’s hand.

You look to her and nod, “Yes?”

“Sir, might I suggest that we send the guards back to the ship and the day you were planning with me we bring Dirk along as well?”

You tighten your jaw. You hadn’t desired this at all. But Roxy leans in and says under her breath, “It turns out Dirk and I were raised in the same camp as children and I just would like to stay with him for a while longer before we go back to the ship.” She looks up at you with her hopeful eyes, “please?”

You rub the bridge of your nose, “You will be the death a me, Rox.”

“Oh I hope not,” She flutters her lashes at you and stands up on tip toe to brush a kiss across your cheek. You wave her back and say to the guards, “Go on back to the ship, I have the two a them under control.”

They give a quick salute and then walk off. You look over the two humans with a shake of your head. “All right, let’s go.” You turn and head out of the bar. You look to your phone, tapping a few buttons while you considered the places you’d planned to go with Roxy. She comes up to your side, curling her arm over yours and looking up at you.

“What do you have planned, love?”

“I was goin’ to take you shoppin’ for some clothes.”

“That’s silly isn’t it? My clothing is all done in uniform though!”

You smirk, “Not your uniform Rox. But I think we can still go, considerin’ we’ll need to get him clothin’. I won’t be havin’ him in slave uniform for the ship an I haven’t got anything for him to wear.”

“I don’t need clothing.” Dirk says idly. Roxy giggles and you get a very sudden, very clear mental image. The heated look he gives you doesn’t help either.

You sigh, heavily. “Let’s go get you both some clothing.”

* * *

The store you choose is actually Dirk’s choice. It’s on one of the higher levels and the store owner is a big eyed brownblood who waves timidly to Dirk and follows you around to help you with everything. You get settled on a couch and let Dirk and Roxy have free reign. You trust her to get him dressed properly, with a few interesting outfits to show off along the way, and she doesn’t disappoint you.

Most of it is uneventful, different shirts and pants, at one point Roxy gets the two of them into matching skirts and you shake your head in amusement.

Roxy’s off finding some clothing with the brown eyed girl while Dirk is putting on another outfit and runs into a little trouble.

You get up and go to help him. You pull back the curtain and stop dead in your tracks.

Dirk has his back to you, but you meet his gaze in the mirror. He’s wearing what can only be described as military dress, the way its cut and stitched. The buttons gleam in gold, with the pieces symbol etched into their surface. The coat is gleaming white and his pants are black as pitch with two stripes on the left side in violet.

He lowers his hands from the buttoning on his neck and turns, slowly. His uniform is like a mimicry of your own, down to the stripe on the leg. Except you had badges and stripes and rank to show and he had nothing.

Nothing but your color on his leg and eyes that bore into you unblinkingly.

You step in and slide the curtain shut behind yourself. You don’t even have to bother remembering he is your property, that’s easy when he wears your colors and clothes like yours, clothing that gives him stature and respectability. Clothing that gives you pride to look at him in.

 Clothing that Dave never would have worn.

You step forward and lift your hand. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink, when you touch his cheek. You run your fingertips down his jawline and then to his mouth. His mouth opens to the slight pressure of your thumb against his lips.

His eyes half close as his lips fit around your thumb and he begins to suck. You feel his warm tongue curl around the digit and you press the pad of your thumb against the roof of his mouth. You slide it back until you feel his soft palate and your hand is against his mouth. With your hand in his mouth, you force him to lift his chin until his neck was exposed. Your other hand swiftly unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and pulled the cloth back.

You attach your mouth to his collarbone, biting down to leave a near circle of pinpricks and you suck on the skin to leave a mark. You feel a sound vibrating in his throat, but his tongue never stops working on your thumb. It’s promising. You draw your mouth back and look at the mark, pleased in yourself. You let out a sigh and pull your hand from his lips.

Buttoning him back up, you cover up the bite and hickey combo. He’s got a light smile on his lips as he watches you in the side mirror. “We have some things to talk about later in private,” you tell him, “remind me so I do not forget.”

He nods, “Yes sir.”

You turn to leave when you notice something out of the corner of your eye. Hidden under black cloth but visible in that side mirror is Dirk’s erection. Licking your lips, you linger over the idea of taking him against that mirror. You could. Roxy could distract the stupid assistant and you could keep him quiet and yourself quiet. You want to see how deep his somber expression and obedience has been carved.

But the deciding factor comes when he lets out a soft breath and his eyelids flutter closed and for longer than a second you can see Dave where he’s standing. Your bulge shifts in your pants and you decide to fuck it all.

Dirk goes where you push him, up against the mirror with eyes glittering orange slits. You lean in, “Here are the quick rules. You don’t talk until we’re done. You don’t call me anything but sir or Admiral. You do not try to kiss me or sweet talk me. I own you. I will use you. I will call you whatever I like. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” his breath is warm against your skin.

“Now get on your knees.”

He nearly dropped down to his knees. As you look down at him and see him in real form and then part of his reflection, you decide that you’re going to buy a mirror, a long one, and fuck him against it. It needs to be done. You’ll fuck Roxy in front of it too.

You put her to the back of your mind, though, and focus on those calloused fingers pulling open your pants and down your boxers and curling around your bulge. He licks and sucks his way up to the tip and then begins to work it into his mouth, his throat. You groan softly as you see your bulge pressing his cheeks out, filling his mouth and throat. He breathes in short, quick breaths through his nose as he sucks on your curling, slick bulge.

You roll your hips against him and chuckle when he makes a soft gurgling noise. You grab a handful of his hair and dig in your nails, holding him against your body. From this angle, with his closed eyes and his pale hair in your grip, you can think of him as Dave. Letting your eyes nearly fall closed and it softens his edges and the clothing becomes a white blur and you can step back in time. It’s just you and Dave being assholes in the store and fucking each other so you wont get caught.

But then your knee does that thing where it weakens near to buckling because of the one fucking time you got shot two hundred years ago and your eyes flash open. Then you’re looking down when he’s looking up and you get orange eyes where they should be red and you can’t help but snarl, just a little.

You thrust your hips against him and don’t have to look in the mirror to know you’re smirking when he has to stretch his mouth over the base of your bulge and his breath is essentially hyperventilation. You rock against him until his eyes start rolling back and then you feel it. Your toes curl and your legs shake and you pull out just enough to give him the ability to get a little true air in his lungs before you fill his mouth with your genetic fluid.

When you’re finished, your bulge retracts slowly. Purple is in the corners of his mouth and on his teeth and tongue when he starts panting. You fix your pants calmly.

You slide your foot between his knees and then lift it up just a little, rubbing the underside of his cock and balls with the toe of your boot. He shudders when you press a little harder and you see his shoulders shake with his breath.

“Look at me.”

He obeys, lifting his chin and looking up at you with those eyes that are not-Dave. You almost wish his name was something else like Kirk or Jim, not fucking Dirk, so close to Dave. You lift your foot up and apply pressure along his cock. His legs close around your leg and foot and you let them. He rocks against you, cautiously at first, but then harder. He puts his hands on his knees and squeezes tightly. He rocks against your foot until you slip it down again and he was on your shin.

You lick your lips, because you can feel your nook clenching at the sight of him. You want him. You want him more than you want to see him fall apart at your feet. You have to lick your lips but you manage to say, “Stop,” clearly.

He blinks at you and it takes him a moment, but then he’s leaning back with his legs open wide. You can see his body trembling, defying the steady gaze of his eyes. You step back from him. “On your feet. We have shopping to finish.”

He opens his mouth and shuts it slowly. He nods. “Yes sir,” his voice is still.

He stands in front of you, and you can see the edge of his cock in the front of his pants.  You smirk and walk out of the dressing room and back to the couch. Roxy catches sight of you and takes the cue silently to get back to shopping. You sit on the couch, not completely satisfied, but feeling that curling in your gut that you got when you fucked with someone in the best fucking way possible. All you were missing from this perfect feeling was a nice glass of wine.


	3. A Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spa time with the Admiral and his Slave

The next location is a spa. The three of you walk into the serenely decorated front office and it’s a human woman with her long dreadlocks tied back by a headband. She bows to you and motions you to follow her. Unlike the shopping trip, you pre-booked this place. The three of you go through a door and then Roxy is separated off, giving you a quick smile before she is whisked away to be pampered on her own.

The hostess assures you that Roxy will be returned in peak condition but you wave it off. You know that she will be joining you later for the salt water bath, with her nails gleaming and her cheeks rosy. It is when you get to your massage room that the woman gives a little frown. “I’m sorry sir, but all our rooms have only a single bed in them. We can take your young man to another room to be treated if that is your desire, but I’m afraid we will have to charge you accordingly.”

“No need. He can remain in the room with me. He will not cause any issues.”

She bows deeply, a wordless apology and agreement, and then proceeds to lead you into a room. Inside is a tall man of the same descent as the woman, his long dreadlocks bound back with a colorful cord and a charming smile offered to you. He bows as well. “My name is Martel. Please, step back here and remove your uniform, Admiral. There is a towel that has been provided for you sir.”

The man gestures to a screen standing up along the side of the room. You nod and step around to it. Behind the screen is a chair with the towel and a coat hanger to hang up your clothing. You begin unbuttoning your jacket when you feel Dirk’s presence, first as a touch of fingers across the underside of your arm and then when he stands before you.

His nimble fingers unbutton the cloth of your uniform coat and peel it back from your shoulders. You don’t even consider telling him to step back. You smile a little when he lifts your arms up and pulls your clothing from your arms and chest. His fingers drift over the scars from your absorbed vestigial legs and then down your side to the hem of your pants.

There’s a quirk of a smile on his lips as his fingers pull open your pants. His palms are warm and rough as he slips his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments and pulls them down. He unties your shoes as well, slipping them from your feet as you lift one leg and then the other for him. His touch skims over your legs as he stands again.

The towel is soft against your skin as he ties it around your waist. Were this Dave, you would kiss that little smile on his lips. Yet he is not, so you simply nod and turn your back on him. You ignore the trail of his fingertips at the top of the towel as you walk back out from behind the divider towards the bed.

Martel gestures to the massage bed and you climb up onto it. Your face fits comfortably in the opening and you, slowly, relax. Martel’s hands are warm and slick from massage oils. You can feel it soaking into your skin. There’s a footstep or three and you feel Dirk’s presence nearby.

You close your eyes. His gaze is on your back. He’s watching the masseuse. Why, you’re not exactly sure and at this moment, with those knuckles working the knots from your shoulders, you don’t give a fuck.

You slip in and out of a drowsy sleep, eyes closed as fingers working at your muscles, mindful of your gills. You wake briefly when you feel the towel shifting on your body, but after hands rub at your thighs, you stop caring and slide back down that slippery slope of peace.

After some time, you’re instructed to roll over.

Lying on your back, you think it’ll be more difficult to relax. You think that you’ll be tempted to watch him work, not want to relax, but you’re wrong. Oh you’re very, very wrong.

You wake up when cool, thin fingers touch your jaw and you hear a voice, “Admiral. Wake up, Admiral.”

Slowly, you push yourself up into a sitting position. It’s Dirk who has woken you up. Martel is at the side of the room, washing his hands in a bowl. “Your massage is finished, sir.”

You wave your hand at Dirk, dismissing his words. “Get my wallet.”

He nods and goes behind the screen. When he returns, Martel is walking back over. The tall man is smiling, his white teeth gleaming. You give him a decent tip and then send Dirk after a robe as well. He comes back with it, helps you into it, and even ties the straps together at your front.

“Your clothing will be returned to you at the end of your stay here,” Martel says, “If that is all right with you, Admiral.”

“Sounds fine. Come along Dirk.” You head from the room.

There is another hostess standing in the hallway. She bows deeply and leads you and Dirk down to another room. Here there is a reclining chair for you to sit in, and one next to it that you gesture Dirk to.

The women inside of the room get to pampering. They clean and scrub your nails and clean and massage your face. You relax to the sound of their chatter and some recording of an ocean far away. You glance over once or twice to see Dirk receiving treatment as well and smile. It’ll be extra for that, but worth it.

With your face scrubbed and your nails filed, you’re led to another room. You can smell the salt water before they even open the door. Your fins flicker just a little in excitement. Inside the ocean themed room is a curved, shell pool. Candles are lit long one wall with the other having a holographic window to show a rocky shore. Homesickness pools in your gut like a heavy weight. The hostess bows again and departs, leaving you alone with Dirk in the room. You stand for a while, breathing in the salty air, and close your eyes.

You tug the knot on your waist loose and shrug out of your robe. The water is just the right temperature, not too warm, not too cool, and the salt is so achingly familiar on your gills. You sink down to your chin in the deepest part and then sigh, heavily, and submerge yourself completely.

You stay under the surface of the water until, out of the corner of your eye, you see a leg slide into the water, followed by another one. Predatory instinct roars into life and your whole body shifts from relaxed into puddy to hard as a shark. The pool is shallow enough that you can walk across the floor, but you have to crouch to stay under water. You reach Dirk and grab him at the knees, pulling him into the center, into the deepest part.

The muscles in his legs are tense and when his hands find your shoulders you can feel the holding on tightly. You draw him down until his head is underwater. You watch as the bubbles escape his mouth, little pockets of air lined in silver. When his nails dig into your skin, you let him go enough that his head pops up above water again. You can hear him gasping, see his chest moving.

You grin.

You count to twenty and then yank him down again. This time he arches his back. He kicks his legs for a moment before he makes himself stop. He fights his instincts and goes stiff in your hands. This time, one of his eyes open, oh so briefly, to peek down at you.

You can only imagine how you look to him.

With a grin that would scare a shark, in the clear water with both eyes open, fins moving lazily beside your head and your gills working all on their own, you can only imagine what he thinks. When his eye closes and it’s been five seconds since the last bubble, you let him above water again.

You tuck his shins under your arms to free up your hands. Leaving him above the water to catch his breath, you slide your fingers under his thighs to his ass. You grip him tightly, squeezing and dragging your claws down. You can feel the vibrations in the water as he cries out. You taste the blood in the water, a tiny amount but oh so clearly there.

You would consider stopping, except that you have a very clear view of just how this is affecting him. The moment you yanked him under the water for the first time, his cock began to harden. Now it was jutting up from his body, so you lean in and lick your tongue up from the underside to the tip.

He shudders and you feel it through his whole body, from his hands on your shoulders to his toes at your side. You lean your head closer and attach your mouth to his hip, scraping your teeth down his skin to create a mark. His cock jerks beside your head, hitting your fin and making you laugh.

You take the short steps to the edge and that puts your head above water. He leans back, gripping the dry floor that serves as the edge to the pool with both hands. There’s a ledge under the water, high enough to sit on, and so you settle him on that. You let go of his legs and climb up, straddling his hips instead.

“Shall we finish what we started?”

He nods.

His cock is hard against your nook, but with the salt water and your own lubrication, he slips in deep. You grind your hips down against him and smirk when he groans. He’s biting his lower lip hard, trying to keep quiet as you push your body down on him. You curl one hand around Dirk’s neck as you slowly bring yourself up and down. You fuck yourself deep and slowly with his cock. Whenever you’re resting on his hips, you squeeze, just a little, just enough to make him gasp for breath when you release him.

With the intent to drag this out as long as you can, it doesn’t surprise you when Dirk starts bucking his hips up against you. He is holding onto you tightly, and were you not a sea troll his grip on your hips would be bruising. Mouthfuls of words escape his lips. They’re soft, begging things, pleading for you to go faster, desperate for more.

You just grin down at him and torture him with your slow speed.

He begins to truly struggle then. Trying to twist and shift your positions. He pushes back on your chest and a vicious thought comes to your mind.

You let yourself be pushed back, but wrap your legs around his waist when you do. You pull him away from the ledge and into the water after you. He starts wriggling to get out of your grip once his head gets under the water. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and push down, grinding back against him. He groans under the water, bubbles escaping in a torrent. His legs move sluggishly as he stands. He arches his back, just getting his mouth above water.

You clench your nook around his cock as he coughs for air. He turns the two of you in the water until it’s your back against the ledge. You know the moment he gets good footing because he slams into you, his cock filling you up harder and faster than before. You arch your back and groan in pleasure as he slams into you again and again.

“Fuck yes,” you moan as he sinks his teeth into your collar bone. “Fuck. Yes. Right ther-,” your words are cut off as he puts stars behind your eyelids and cuts off your words with pleasure. You dig your fingers through his hair and scratch down his shoulder blades. “Yes,” you croon as the pleasure continues, “Oh _yes_ , Dave.”

There’s a momentary stop, it’s hardly longer than a breath, but you feel it. He stops. Just for a second. And then he’s slamming into you harder than before.

You’re going to bruise on your back, but you don’t give a fuck. He fucks you like you haven’t been fucked since your last kismesis. When you climax, it’s with stars in your vision, blood under your nails and the taste of saltwater on your lips. You groan out Dave’s name and for a moment everything is perfect.

And then you open your eyes.

There’s heat in your nook that’s a telltale sign of human genetic fluids and there’s breath at your throat that’s coming out in heavy gasps. Orange eyes look up at you and the broken fantasy is torn to bits. You put your arm over your eyes and open your mouth to speak. But you don’t know what to say.

Dirk pulls out of you and the water shifts around as he hops up beside you. You sigh heavily.

“Something wrong, hon?”

You drop your arm down and smile when you see Roxy. She’s wearing a plush robe and looks like an angel in white. She looks at the water and then giggles. “Looks like you two had fun without me.”

You glance to Dirk and he gives you a shrug and a little smile.

“Yeah, something like that.” You reply to Roxy. You could get used to having him around, you think. 


	4. Driven by Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the afternoon in the spa, Eridan decides to spend the rest of the evening on the space station with his human companions.

The noise of the station was a dull background, unnoticed and unheeded. On your right is Roxy and on your left is Dirk. After shopping and the spa, the two of them were dressed in civilian clothing. Roxy wore a vibrantly violet dress, off one shoulder and with beads bouncing at her thighs as she walked. Dirk was back in the black military outfit once more, with the purple stripe down the leg.

Roxy turned towards you, batting her lashes, “Admiral, we don’t have to go back to the ship quite yet, do we?” She ran her hand up your arm, though you hardly needed the persuasion.

“Should we find a place to eat?” You put an arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to your side. Dirk mimics the action on his own, stepping closer and looking to your face. He was taller than Roxy, so instead of looking up his eyes are level with your own. You smile to her and smile to him. It was easy to welcome him into your tranquil circle, along with Roxy.

“There are restaurants on the station,” Dirk said, “A gathering place like this has plenty to offer for any taste.”

Roxy laughed, “You sound as though you are advertising them! Tell us, which one is the best?”

“Best in taste or best in privacy?”

“We don’t need somethin’ private,” You interject, “The best food is where we should go.”

Dirk nods and takes the lead, guiding you down the circular deck towards an elevator. From under your arm Roxy looks up with a devious smile, “Don’t need something private, hm? What have you planned for us, hon?”

You smirk, “Oh nothin’ much. Dinner and maybe a show afterwards? Does that sound about right to you?”

“Dinner and a show? Sounds like a date,” she laughed, “what a stud you are, sir, taking a couple of lovely bodies like us out for a treat like that!” You smiled, glad she was having a good time, “But that doesn’t explain why you don’t want privacy now. I know you, you have something planned…”

You shrug, “Whatever do you mean, Rox? I already told you my plans for the evenin’.” She playfully slaps at your side.

“You and your mischievous plots!” She looks to Dirk, putting up her hand and whispering loudly from behind it, “He’s always up to something, Dirk. You have to keep your eye on this one or else he’ll get you and get you good.”

Dirk gives her a wry smile and nods.

The three of you step into the elevator together, Roxy still at your side. Dirk pushes a floor number and the doors slide closed. When the three of you are isolated, though, it’s Roxy who gets the devious look in her eyes. She stands on tip toe and grabs the front of your shirt for support. She kisses you like that, opened mouth, tongue and all.

You slip an arm under her for support and she takes the initiative and hooks her legs around your hips. You take a step back, to balance out her weight, when you feel Dirk’s presence at your side. His mouth is a hesitant warmth along your cheek and fin, but his hands are confident. He slips one down your backside, cupping your ass with one hand while his other slips between you and Roxy and runs across your bone sheath.

You break the kiss with Roxy with a moan and lift your head up. “I’m the one with the plots, hm?”

Roxy laughs, peppering your neck with kisses while Dirk murmurs into your ear, “You know there is a classy little hotel on the station. It has a honeymoon suite.”

“I know,” You murmur back, your hand on Roxy shifting so you can slide your fingers up under her dress. “I have it booked for this evenin’ already.”

Roxy giggles, “You scoundrel! You planned this fine day with me all out already didn’t you. And then I went and brought Dirk along and changed everything on you.”

You kiss the side of her nose and she laughs at you, “I don’t mind. He’s good company. But I don’t think we will be if we keep this up. And I thought you were hungry.”

She gives a lascivious lick of her lips but before she can answer, Dirk speaks, “We’re on the level.”

She pouts as she hops down off your hips, but the two of them linger a while closer. Images of locking the elevator doors and undressing them both, just enough to feel their bodies close around yours, fill your mind. You shake them out of your mind and wipe your hand over your mouth. Roxy straightens out a wrinkle in your jacket and the doors open. The three of you walk out again, following Dirk.

This level is full of different smells, floating all about the deck. Dirk walks you past several restaurants before stopping at a little one. It seems as though it was just tacked on at the end, with a round faced olive blood and a couple of humans behind a long bar that begins out by the deck and extends far back to the hull of the station. He greets you all with a broad grin and a gesturing hand, “Dirk, Dirk! I have heard that you have been traded! Is this your new master? What a fine gentleman you are, and an admiral too! Oh ho!” He gestured to a couple of free stools. The three of you sit down and Dirk nods to the man.

To you he says, “Admiral Ampora, this is a good friend of Commander Serket. His name is Aullin Diford and he serves the best sea food in this quadrant.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Seafood? And how do you manage to produce that, Diford?”

He tapped the side of his nose with a finger, “Never you mind that, Admiral. Let me serve you up some fine dishes and have you be the judge, hm? It might be the last time I see Dirk here for years and one should always have a proper send off with their friends!”

You chuckle, “All right. Then shall we have something to drink while Diford cooks us up some food?” You say it to Roxy, who brightens up.

“Oh yes, lets! A couple of cocktails to start us off would be divine!” She clapped her hands together excitedly.

Diford had already gestured to a human, who was mixing away. “Don’t worry about ordering a thing, sir, I’ll make sure everything is perfect for your discerning palate.” He himself was already slicing a way at a fish with a knife.

Your mouth began to water as you tried to remember the last time that you had fish as fresh looking as that was on his counter. The cocktails were soon mixed and the three of you toasted to the beginning of a lovely evening.

Diford prepared bite after bite of delicious morsels. He seemed to want you to try and taste everything, so he scaled the food down to just enough for a bite. On each cleverly designed tray there was enough for each of you to taste. While he worked, Diford told stories of past customers and from past customers.

Roxy delighted in each tale and willingly gave a few of her own. As main bartender for the ship, she had quite a collection she had amassed. Dirk spoke less often, though he frequently reached out and put his hand on your leg, or his knee against yours. He kept close and made sure you had drink and food. It was pleasant to have someone waiting on you hand and foot. That had never been Roxy’s way, or her job to do, but having a personal slave was turning out to be a lot more enjoyable than you had previously known.

Eating until you were full, you got some suggestions on where to go next from Diford. He mentioned a quiet little lounge just one floor up, where the great Cosset Mayjor was putting on a splendid performance. You pay the tab without a second thought, giving him a heavy tip for his good service, and the three of you totter your way up to the lounge.

It’s a dark place, lit only by tiny candles on tables that come in a variety of colors. The three of you get seated in a little booth with a flickering orange light. Instead of more alcohol, you get chocolate drinks chock full of caffeine. You expect it to be far too sweet to drink, but yours comes with a dark bitter bite. Roxy’s is a frothy white toothache waiting to happen and whatever Dirk got fizzles.

You lean back against the comfortable seat and watch as the rustblood comes sweeping onto the stage, wearing a shimmering gown that looks like stars caught on black cloth. She croons out a song with red painted lips and russet red eyes. Her black hair curls around her face, all old school beauty to go with her classic singing.

Roxy is brought to tears, though that might mostly be the booze from before, and curls against your side, hiccupping softly. Dirk seems to not know how to sit, other than close to you, until you put your arm behind him and he can rest his cheek against y our shoulder. You watch the rest of lovely Cosset’s set, which lasts a surprisingly long time, before you decide enough is quite enough.

Check paid and tip given, the three of you ascend in the elevator once more, this time to a much quieter section of the station. Roxy recovers from her tears on her way over, but you know that she won’t be good for much else than passing out soon. You meet the receptionist, check in and get showed to the honeymoon suite.

You’ve only been inside the door for a moment when you see the look shared between Roxy and Dirk. It’s a look that puts a hole in the bottom of your stomach, about the size of your heart, and at the same time as your heart plummets. It’s a tired look, tired and grim and resigned. That bubbling joy that you love to see in Roxy’s bright eyes dims and Dirk’s calm face goes stony cold. She looks away from you and the smile she gives is forced and doesn’t touch her eyes, “Let me go clean up a bit while Dirk gets us started, hm?”

You’re rooted to the ground, because you didn’t think it would be like this. You didn’t think it would _ever_ be like this for you. You had, in fact, actively decided years ago that  you would rather not have sex at all than do this, than have others compelled to do it because they felt they _must_ and not because they wanted to. A spontaneous romp in the elevator was what you looked for, driven by desire on both parties, not out of _duty_. Fucking you was _no one’s_ **_duty_** _._

Clenching your teeth, you force yourself to keep calm. Even with your inhibitions down as they were, you couldn’t lose your cool. As strong as Dirk looked, he was nowhere near as strong as you were and Roxy could throw a punch with the best of them, but she could barely stand even barefoot right now. You take in a deep breath, counting in your head as you do. Roxy takes your silence as assent and heads off to the bathroom on shaky legs. Dirk approaches you with a firm look in his eye.

As he reaches out for your shirt, you put your hands over his and you say, “Stop.”

There’s a smile on his lips, but you suddenly realize that’s a learned habit. He’s got no wish to smile at you right now. There is no happiness in his face. “Admiral-,”

“I said for you to fuckin’ stop.” You pull his hands away from you a little more roughly than you intend. His smile fades. You let go of his hands because you know if you hold on too long you’ll hurt him.

With that same stony expression, he begins to unbutton his own shirt.

Your tentative grasp on your control is gone as you grab his hands again and pull them down, this time holding on tightly, “What part of _stop_ do you not fuckin’ understand? Stop undressin’ me. Stop undressin’ you.” You shove him away, unsurprised as he stumbles backwards and struggles to maintain balance on his feet. You walk to the bathroom, “Rox! The fuck are you doin’!”

The water in the bathroom stops running and she pokes her head out. Her face is cleaned of the tears and makeup. “I thought I said-,”

“Get out of the bathroom,” you growl.

Unlike with Dirk, you don’t have to say it twice. She vanishes in a moment but comes out again quickly, drying her hands on a towel. She looks different without any of her makeup. Older maybe. More tired, definitely. “What’s wrong?”

“Out, out!” You shoo her out of the bathroom and then close the door behind yourself and lock the handle. You can hear them begin to whisper to each other behind the door and you tell yourself to ignore it. Shedding  your clothing swiftly, you cross the bathroom to the large tub and begin to fill it up. You turn off the bathroom’s main light, leaving only a little glow by an outlet, a nightlight to see by. Naked, even with your glasses off, you step into the tub and let it fill around you. Your gills tremble and then open slightly, enough for the clear water to move through the capillaries along the edges.

Closing your eyes, you sink into the water until there’s enough that you’re completely covered. Blindly, you reach up with a foot and turn the handle until the water is off.

You do not allow yourself to question _why_ they would behave how they did. You do not allow yourself to question their motives in the elevator. Just because one time they intended to act without desire didn’t mean that they never had it. It could not mean that. You could not let that be the truth behind them.

You had to believe that they could care more for you than that. You _needed_ that, more than you needed anything else in your life.

You were not crying about this. You were not afraid to lose them. You were not hiding from them. You were just trying to calm down a bit, maybe sober up a little, before you went to bed.

But it was a long, long time before your mind settled enough for you to sleep. 


	5. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxy is not pleased with Eridan's departure, alone, into the bathroom.

“What did you do? What did you say?” Roxy smacks you again and again with a hand towel. “I haven’t seen him look like that since I first pursued him to be my moirail.”

“I just did what you told me to do!” You hissed, putting an arm to defend yourself from the weaponized cloth. “I was getting him ready or at least I was trying to. It didn’t work, though, he kept telling me to stop.”

“What _exactly_ did he say?”

“Stop. That’s it. He just said stop. I tried to undress him and he stopped me and I tried to undress myself and he stopped me as well. Fucking hell, Roxy, he just about bruised my hands getting me off of him and almost put me on my ass.” You turn away from her, running a hand through your hair, “He was obviously excited in the elevator, and just about anywhere else. It’s no secret he likes the attention we’ve been giving him.”

“Dirk if introducing you was a mistake-,”

You whirl around on her. “A mistake? How can you possibly go and say that? It’s the drink going to your head. You just introduced us. We’ve been together for a day, _a day_.”

“I have worked _years_ to get him open, _years_ to get where we are now. We are finally, _finally_ getting to the third phase of the mission and if you fuck it up with Ampora, Dirk, I swear all that is left holy in this drained universe that-,”

“Roxy, relax. It’s just a drunken snafu.” You put your hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. “We’ll be fine in the morning. We’ll figure out what it was that we fucked up on tonight and everything will be fine.”

Her anger vanished as you held her and tears filled her eyes. “Years I’ve spent on that ship alone working on him, working with him, to get here now. That boy from the past was a Hail Mary. Without him, getting you here would have been so much more difficult. We can finally work on the next part, Dirk, and if we drive off Ampora now, we are _fucked._ ”

You guide her over to the bed and sit her down on it. She puts her face in her hands and lets out a heavy sigh. You join her on the side of the bed and put your arm across her back. Roxy’s been working this longer than you have, far longer than anyone else you’ve known. Her white-blonde hair hides the strands of grey she has, but the make-up she wears only does so much for the wrinkles. She rests against your shoulder and you run your fingers lightly through her blonde hair. “Don’t worry Roxy. You’re his moirail and I’ll become his matesprit and we’ll do what it takes to keep ourselves there until we complete the mission. We can do this and we don’t need to worry about driving him away. Okay? I promise, everything will be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Think about it, other than this little problem, our whole day was great. He knows he can get what he needs from us and with that we can stay close to him. He won’t give us up now, we just have to get better at reading him.”

“Get better at _reading_ him. Get better at reading _him_? All right.” She mumbled, running her hands down her face. “We can do that, but we should get some sleep.”

You nod. “Yeah, let’s sleep.” You pull back the covers of the plush cushioned bed and get her to lie down with her cheek pressed into the pillow and her light hair a gathering of wispy golden threads on the dark blue of the pillow’s covering. She blinks her pink eyes slowly until they close in her fatigue. You stroke the strands back behind her ear and sigh heavily. All that you knew of Roxy had been learned from your master and from your communications with her online. Fifteen years she had been out with Ampora, and five years before that she had been part of the highest circles of the rebellion. Roxy had started working for the cause when she was barely more than a child, but without her where would you be? Where would you all be?

Certainly not here, not in the bed of an Admiral; an Admiral who had not only the ear of one empress, but both of them.

It was because of this woman here that you were in the third phase.

You pull the blankets up to her chin and watch as she smiles in her sleep. You settle down beside her, arms holding your own pillow tightly, as you let a drunken slumber overtake you.


	6. Re: Rules

Cold water sloshes out of the tub as you rise, gasping, from its depths. The room is dark, but for a dull glow beside the sink counters, enough light to use it and the toilet by. You pull yourself up, and barely register the cold. You are the sea-dweller of your species, born in the dark caves like the others, but bred for the deep pressurized oceans of your homeworld and for the cold, lightless depths it contained. Far from the ocean, far from that overwhelming pressure and even though you had little desire to return to them, you still carried the attributes born to you.

The rug beside the tub is soaked before you ever step out and walk across the room. Feet squelching on the sodden carpet, you go to the mirror and stop, looking at your reflection in the eerie blue glow. Your eyes reflect the light and it catches across the membranes of your fins, making the deep purple of them seem almost black. You flare them out and lean forward, baring your long canines. Over four hundred years old and still sharp. You shared attributes of your dual empresses, attributes that were the nightmares of races all over the galaxy- long life, frightening maws and flaring fins.

Your fins close tightly over your gills, protecting them once more as you look away from your reflection. You go to the door, still dripping from your hair, and unlock it. The room inside is dark, with no glow in it at all. There’s the soft sound of breathing and the mumbled snore you recognize as Roxy. It seems Dirk doesn’t snore, though.

“Admiral?”

Or perhaps you didn’t hear him snore because he wasn’t asleep at all.

You reach out to the wall and touch a switch, bringing up the lights enough to see by, for human standards. Dirk sits up in the bed, dark sheets falling down from his chest. With a quick glance down to Roxy, he pulled the blankets away from himself and stepped out of the bed. “Sir?”

There’s a wardrobe along the wall. You open it up and pull out one of the thick robes inside. You tug it on and when you’re tying it around your waist, you feel a hand at your shoulder. “Admiral, is there something wrong?”

With a heavy sigh, you look over your shoulder and to him. Turning around, you lift a hand and curl your fingers under his chin, your thumb resting under his lips. His mouth opens under your touch, white teeth of a gently treated slave, soft skin of a slave kept inside instead of out in the fields, pale features of a slave who never saw true sunlight. He looks directly into your eyes for a moment and then, as he should, he looks down. Such blond lashes. Eyes closed like this, he looked just like Dave.

Dave, smarter than he looked, smarter than he acted, smarter than he even knew. Some of his blood somehow, some way, had to run in Dirk’s veins. Up close like this, no one should mistake one human for another. Not when you could see the glistening of spit on his lips and the shadows under his eyes from late or sleepless nights. Yet for you, this was Dave and not Dirk. Yet for you, past and present were mixed together in this one man.

Those eyelids flutter open again and when you get orange instead of red, the heartache in your chest turns into a sickening churn in your stomach. You let go of his face and shake your head clear of Dave. Dirk’s insistent, though, and slides his hands up your chest, curling them in the soft, thick collar of your robe. He smiles, with wrinkles crinkling up at the corner of his eyes.

“How did you sleep?” You can barely look at him. Last night haunts you when you blink your eyes.

“Well enough. The bed is amazing, you should try it.” The smile is never ending, “You still have time to.”

“I’ve slept,” you close your eyes. His voice is not the same as Dave’s was. There is no Texan twang, no dusky sarcasm. His dialect was star-born and slave-raised. When you listened to him, he was someone else, someone himself, he wasn’t Dave or Dave-similar in your mind at all. “I sleep better in water than I do in beds.” It was one of those genetic things. The water was your hatching home- the place you belonged. Years ago it was slime that you and your race slept in. But then, over decades of expansion, came cultural change and appropriation, human style beds became popular, and the most often used.

“You don’t have to get dressed. You don’t have to get up. Just come lay down for a while with me.” You can feel his breath against your cheek as he leans in, “We won’t disturb Roxy at all. The bed is plenty big.”

You put your hand over his, or more specifically, you curl your fingers around his pinkie finger. “If I must tell you to stop one more time, I will break a finger.” You open your eyes enough to see the surprise on his features before it bleeds away into a mask. He tries to smile but it’s more a twitch of the lips than anything else.

“Forgive me,” he murmured words that Dave wouldn’t have. “I just thought… With this room you got and… I only wanted to please you.” His hands slip out of your grasp. He’s too smart to fold them protectively over his chest so instead they get to twist in the sides of his pants, turning into white knuckled fists.

“You know what would please me?” You turn away from him. Your hair needs the tending of a brush.

“What, sir?”

“Food.” You find a brush at the vanity. It’s a silver handled trinket. Lovely and intricately made. You turn it over in your hands and smile into the mirror like back of the brush. Polished, true silver- a rarity in space. It was strange how uncommon a simple metal like this was planet to planet. There was an abundance of gold, but silver came from only a handful of places. “You could fetch me something to eat. Wake Roxy and have her go with you. She knows what I like.”

With the mirror backing of the brush you can see the frown that furrows Dirk’s forehead as he turns to look to Roxy. You watch him hesitate, biting on a corner of his lip as he, possibly, ponders the response to questioning you. Eventually he goes back to the bed.

You brush your hair slowly, with your back to the humans, as he rouses Roxy. She mumbles a bit at first, but sure enough she is getting up and covering a yawn with a hand. Wordlessly, she walks from the bed, sleep still in her eyes, and kisses your cheek. It’s a greeting more than anything else, just a touch of lips to skin without any deeper meaning than that.

Something inside of you relaxes and your shoulders lower slightly. At least for now, you and she could continue your day as though nothing had happened last night at all. Of course, later, there would have to be some kind of discussion on the matter, but for now all was well again. Roxy dressed in provided clothing, and when she approached you again, it was for the brush. You smile as you run it through her blonde hair, shaping it in the way that frames her head the best. “Get some breakfast for yourself an’ Dirk while you’re out gettin’ mine.”

“Of course.” She chuckles and kisses your cheek again, “We’ll be back soon, hon. You just sit tight, ok?”

And just like that she departs, with Dirk in tow, to do as you bid.

* * *

Roxy’s return finds you sitting, lounging on pillows. You’re drowsing in your robe, half-awake when she opens the door and comes sauntering in. She’s got a tray balanced on one hand and Dirk stepping in after her carrying a bottle and three glasses. Her smile is broad as she steps across the room, wearing an off the shoulder dress that’s blue-green like the ocean you dream of. It goes down to the ankle, but a split on either side reveals her legs up to her thighs. Discarded shoes lay on the floor behind her as she climbs onto the bed. Sliding up the sheets on her knees, she presents the tray to you, laying the metal across your legs.

She curls up at your side and lifts off the cover to the meal. “Since we’re on vacation, I figured we could indulge ourselves a little. So we’ve got all sorts of meat, cheese, bread, crackers and five different kinds of dip! Hot mustard, sweet barbeque, an oil with garlic in it, something with goat cheese in it and an olive tapenade. Oh! And Dirk has some mead- that’s honey wine, hon. Come on, baby, don’t be so shy!” Roxy beckoned to Dirk, who loitered beside the bed still.

His orange eyes glanced from her to you and then down.

Roxy pinches your cheek, pulling it slightly when she did. “You’ve scared him, Admiral. Boy like him uses his hands for work and play and you tell him you’ll snap them off? Tsk, tsk. Don’t be so cruel.” She leans in and kisses your cheek, where she pinched with her fingers. “Let him know you’re not going to hurt him.”

Reaching out with one hand, you pat the bed beside you. “Here. Come sit. Pour us all a drink and relax a little. It’s all right, Dirk.”

He shucks off his shoes and joins you both on the bed. Handing off the glasses, he pours wine into them and then settles down beside you. The bottle is nestled between you and him, the cork loose in the top, like a cherished grub in the family bed. Holding your drink in one hand, you put that arm around Roxy’s shoulders and rest your arm around Dirk. “Would you mind helpin’ me out a little with the food, Rox? I seem to have my arms full a somethin’.”

She laughed and picked off morsels from the tray. “Oh you’ll love this, it’s got some blue crab on it!”

You open your mouth and allow her to place the food on your tongue. You’re pleased with the taste, buttery and just a little sweet. It’s real crab, and it is delicious. That mouthful is only the first on a long line of delicious bites

Roxy murmurs what each little mouthful is, or at least looks like, before she feeds them to you. You smile, trusting her to feed you what you like just as she trusts you not to bite her delicate fingers. Dirk sits stiffly at your side for the longest time, sipping his drink and watching in silence. But as he drinks and as you eat, he relaxes against your side until Roxy can manage to coerce him into feeding you a mouthful or two of food.

Eventually the platter holds nothing but crumbs and smudges of dip. Roxy picks it up and puts it on the floor beside the bed, fully out of the way, while you lay back and enjoy the sensation of a full belly, a comfortable bed, and a honey sweet buzz in your mind. She curls up again under your arm, drinking from her glass and giving you a look that you are all too familiar with. She’s waiting for an indication to continue, to slip out of that ocean colored dress and into something a little more comfortable. The silk sheets, perhaps, or your own shirt, both were viable options to her.

Pulling your arm from behind her back, you take a deep gulp from your glass, finishing off the wine. You wave off Dirk when he moves to pour you some more. “Wait, wait, I’ve got to have a clear head about this bit.”

Roxy’s fingers run in circles on your thigh, “What bit, hon?”

“I’ve taken Dirk into my service but haven’t given him rules yet. Ground rules, establishing rules, practically fuckin’ commandments from up on high he’s gotta fuckin’ follow when he’s about the ship.” You give Roxy your glass, to keep her hand from distracting you. You turn your attention to Dirk, who’s watching you quietly. He holds his own glass in two hands, one folded over the other protectively.

“Now I gave you the hard’n’fast rules, fuck was it only yesterday? But right, I gave those to you, an’ here are the full rules.” You hold up a finger as you list off your ‘commandments’ to Dirk. “First; obedience to me is absolute. I never intend to be cruel unless I am pushed to be so or the situation mandates such action. Second; havin’ relations with any a my crew, and I’m speakin’ specifically about the trolls aboard my ship, is forbidden. The admiral’s slave will not be some engine fucker’s squeeze. Third; orders from my crew are to be followed within reason. Anythin’ that doesn’t put you, Rox, me or the ship in danger would be fuckin’ idiotic to obey, but stay outta their way if they ask it a you or somethin’. Four; Roxy is the one you report to when you can’t get ahold a me. She’s the one in charge a all the slaves aboard my ship an’ she’s the one who is most trustworthy.” There’s a brief shared look between the two of them, as though Dirk already knew that. It was obvious enough, you thought, and so you carried on with your rules without commenting on the look.

“Five; this one you know, to you my name is Admiral or sir. Rox has the privilege a callin’ me by my hatchname because she is, effectively, my moirail. Six; don’t forget what I told you before. When we fuck you don’t talk, you don’t kiss, you don’t sweet talk me; any a those things will get you sleepin’ in the human quarters aboard the ship an’ out a my rooms. And seven, most importantly; I own you. You are not a slave a the military, the empire, or anyone other than me. I will call you what I will, do what I will and I expect complete devotion to these rules or you’ll find that I don’t threaten somethin’ more than once. Am I understood?”

They both sat quietly beside you as you made your list. You watched Dirk’s face as emotions flickered across his eyes. Until he closed them, turning his head down and away. You hear a clink of glass as Roxy puts both cups in one hand and reaches across you. She puts her hand over Dirk’s knee and squeezes. You see them exchange a look, see Roxy give him a little nod.

Then Dirk looks up to you and says, “I understand, Admiral.” Roxy gives Dirk’s knee another little squeeze and you relax back again.

“Good. Refill the glasses then, I’m sure there’s still a little more in that bottle you brought in with you. We don’t have to be back to the ship until tomorrow, at least.” You retrieve your glass from Roxy and hold it up. Dirk pours out the wine for all three of you until the bottle has nothing but frothy drips down at the bottom. With a smile and a laugh, you enjoy their company under the influence of the mead.


	7. Shower for Three

Warmth. There’s skin against yours; a chest against your back, a back against your chest, a heartbeat under your fingers and lips against your neck. You don’t even have to open your eyes to identify which body of warmth is which. There’s that sweet jasmine and sour alcohol right under your nose, the scent of Roxy. Behind you is more of that alcohol stink, but along with it that salty smell you’re beginning to associate with Dirk.

Turning your head a little, you can feel his breath roll over your neck. There was something about him that made you think of that ocean you were born for, as well as the one you had once lived by. You shift your hand from Roxy’s ample hips and reach behind you, running your fingers up through his hair and bask in the memories of rolling waves and dried salt on your skin. For the first time in decades, you were homesick.

“’nother  ‘tini ‘hon… ‘m good fur it…”

You peek open one eye to look down at the woman in your arms. She’s curled up against your chest, one leg folded up between you two and the other stretched out with her toes poking out from under the sheets. Her hair is a mess and her lipstick is smeared on her lips. There’s a little drool there on her chin as well, but you think that only makes her look more charming.

Suddenly one of her fists went flailing out and you pull back to keep from getting grazed by her knuckles, “Sonuva dirty dog… ain’t got no p’mission t’act tha’ way with _me_ …”

Behind you is a soft chuckle. “Is she always this chatty in her dreams?” You can feel his words as a puff of air over the gills closed tight along your neck under your jaw. A little shiver runs down your spine when you feel those lips ghost over such a sensitive spot.

“’m a _lady_ ,” Roxy’s sleepy mumblings go soft and into nothing as she curls up tighter against your chest.

“Not usually,” you reply quietly. You can feel Dirk shifting, his hands moving to a more comfortable place along your sides. This time those touches of lips against your skin feel like soft kisses.

The command for him to stop is half formed on your tongue, but after three or so of them, he stops himself. “Sorry sir,” he whispers. “Got carried away.”

You turn your head towards him more, to try and look at him even though you were facing Roxy. “See, that’s all right.”

“It..was?” His brows furrow in his confusion. “You said kissing you was forbidden.”

“Think of it this way, Dirk,” You run your fingertips along his scalp, “Kissing me like a lover, on the lips, you may not do. You’re not a lover, you’re a slave. Kissing my body worshipfully? A lover might do that, but a slave can as well.” You scratch lightly at his skin. When you do, you can feel him shudder under your touch, “Rox’s is a special case. Moirails and all. The lines blur a bit between proper an’ improper behavior.”

“Figuring out your particulars is a bit like a puzzle.”

“Don’t tell me you’re terrible at puzzles, now,” you like the shape of his jaw and his neck so you keep running your fingertips up and down the edges. “I was under the impression that you were an intelligent human.”

“I’m not terrible at them, no sir,” You feel his fingers slip down your side, underneath your sheets. “I am very patient and a bit of a perfectionist. I dislike making mistakes. I don’t give up.” His hand stops at your hip, his fingers curling just below it. “I like to figure things out completely. Inside and out.” You can feel the smile on his lips as he whispers into your ear, “I have always been very good with my hands, sir.”

_“Hey now, haven’t you heard? Musicians make a living not just outta their mind, but their hands, Eridan. That’s why they make such great lovers; the better the musician, the better the lover. It’s all in the hands. And I have always been **very** good with my hands.”_

You sit up sharply, sucking in a breath through the nose and clamping down your jaw to keep from cursing, or worse, screaming. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest it feels like it could be turning your lungs into mush. Your quick movement rouses Roxy from her sleep and makes Dirk sit up as well.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” His urgent words barely pierce through the fog of memories in your mind.

You shake your head. You cover your face with your hands and sit like that as your traitorous mind continues the memory without your consent.

_His fingertips were rough, his palms also. Those fine musician hands were gentle, despite his callouses. You didn’t know then that he used his hands to hold and fight with swords as well. He took care of his hands, right down to the evenly filed nails that scratched along your sides, down your hips._

_That smirk on his lips never left as he slipped fingers under your pants and managed to peel the fabric off of your body without ever touching the button. You had bought tighter pants the weekend after this, but a week later he’d gotten you out of those too._

_You still shiver when you think of those nails, those fingertips, which scored dark lines down your inner thighs. But it was those smirking lips you remember best. You had fallen apart just with those two hands while he just watched with that smug expression. And afterwards you had gushed in delirious_ _gratitude for it all._

“Admiral?” A distant voice.

“Eridan?” This one feminine.

You suck in a breath that fills your burning lungs and push your way out of the bed, away from their warm bodies. “I need a shower.”

Already naked, you walk straight into the bathroom without a look back and turn on the water as cold and with the highest pressure that you can stand. Shivering, you stand under it, head bowed to the water, as it plasters your hair to your skull.

“Fuck.” Dirk was a surprising source of Dave triggers. Maybe having someone look so much like him, but be so utterly ignorant of him was a faulty idea. But as you let the water rush over you, you begin to realize that maybe, just maybe, the wound that Dave left in your heart never healed. Maybe all of this was so painful, so raw, because it was tearing open a festering lesion.

This was no scab being picked at, no scar sliced open again. This was a laceration that you had covered up with bandages thick enough to block out the stench of it decaying. Now Dirk was here and the bandage was being pulled back to reveal the ugly truth underneath.

You were a centuries old Admiral and some lost human lover had more power and sway over your heart than you ever admitted before. You had never grieved your loss of him. For years you had simply shut it down, put it aside. And now his look-alike lay in your bed, followed your commands, and spoke with a shadow of his words. All without ever really know what the fuck he was doing at all.

You should get rid of Dirk. Sell him off to the highest bidder, or simply to the military. Fuck, you could even kill him; a facsimile of Dave to die at your hands and finally, completely, be gone. You had no deeper connection to him than you had to any other slave aboard your ship save Roxy alone. Surely she would be saddened, but she had dozens of other humans to befriend. Hers was a race where men and women lived and died within a breadth of so few years. Dirk was no special man to her.

Yet, if you did that…

You scowl. If you got rid of Dirk, the wound would still be there. Every thought, every memory of Dave that cropped up, especially now that you knew he was out there somewhere, would be that same dagger in the ribs. Your emotions would be out of your control. Your heart and mind would be in conflict. Essentially, removing Dirk would not help you heal, but fuck you up worse.

You were over four hundred years old now. You didn’t have the luxury to behave as a wriggler anymore.

“Eridan?” Roxy stood on the other side of the glass door. Looking up you could see her pale human form and her golden hair. There was a spot of darker color, her lips, which moved as she spoke. “May I come in, hon?”

You pushed open the door and gesture for her to come inside. She steps in under the cold water with you, shivering immediately as she does.  “Brr! This water’s freezing! ” Her hands were strikingly warm as they ran up your arms to your shoulder. She reached for the handle but you stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“No, leave it. I need this.”

“You’ll catch your death of a cold in here like this.” She reached past you anyway and turned the water’s handle. The water turned warmer and warmer until steam was filling the shower and bathroom. The pouring water was scalding on your chilled flesh. Roxy, though, tilted her head back and let it rush over her. It drenched her hair, slid down her back and rivulets of water ran down her bare chest. She let out a heavy, satisfied groan. “Ah, just what the medic ordered.”

You grunt and pull back. The hot water always makes your gills tender. They swell, seeking the oxygen in the water even when your lungs were working perfectly fine.

There’s a knock at the shower door and you look over to see Dirk’s blurry human form standing on the other side. “Room in there for another?”

Roxy answers yes before you can say otherwise and the door swings open. Dirk climbs in with the both of you and you are especially grateful for the oversized shower space. “Quite the party,” he says, looking from Roxy to you. She’s the only one actually washing anything. She’s opened one of those tiny shampoo containers and is lathering up while you stand there in the unwanted steam.

Roxy grins. “Dirk, be a dear and get my back would you?” She turns her back on him and allows him to get some soap and wash her.

You’re very aware that this kind of behavior was supposed to be a major turn on/fantasy re-enactment, but at the moment you’re still lingering on your memories and the wounds that came from them. You end up watching idly as they clean each other. Roxy is the one to sense your disinterest the best and, not only that, she knows how to treat you. She’ll occasionally smile to you or offer a wink, but she doesn’t attempt to engage you in conversation. After a few failed attempts at talking, Dirk follows suit.

They have a pleasant conversation, about clothing of all things, and you listen with half an ear. Your mind is primarily focused on those last few showers you got to take with Dave. They had been in much smaller quarters than this, in the bathroom of your shared apartment, and more often than not a sexy attempt to shower together became a tangle of limbs and constant rearranging of positions. Still a few very intense moments were shared and in the end that was what you remembered best.

Dave had given some of his best kisses when he was half awake in the shower after working in the sweaty DJ-box all night. You could still feel the touch of his lips on your own if you closed your eyes and thought about it for too long.

You’re brought suddenly out of your thoughts by Roxy’s hand on your chest. The water is a dripping from the showerhead and the stall door has been opened up, allowing cool air to come inside. She smiles up at you. “Come on, hon, there’s no need to be standing about staring at nothing, now is there?”

You let her gently tug on your arm to get you out of the stall, where Dirk, with a towel wrapped around his hips already, helps you dress in a warm robe. You took a towel from him and began to dry your own hair and horns while Roxy wrapped a towel around her blond curls. “So, what should we do today?” She looks from you to Dirk. “Is there anything exciting on the station, Dirk? I think we should get some fun in before we have to go back aboard the ship, don’t you, Eridan?”

Making a thoughtful humming noise, you turn to look for a clock. A small clock was on the counter beside the sink. It was later in the evening now; you had spent most of the day abed with Roxy and Dirk, after drinking and eating yourselves into a stupor. You stretch out your spine, relishing the crack along the bones. “We still have some time. Maybe we can find some good entertainment.”

Roxy clapped her hands together, “Excellent! Dirk, there must be something we can go to. Something exciting, something that will make our pulses race!”

His orange eyes glance over at you, and for a moment you hold his gaze. There was none of Dave’s wry amusement at such an innuendo heavy phrase, just a quick glance for permission. Had you really frightened the man that much already? Perhaps you shouldn’t have threatened to snap his fingers so quickly. 


	8. Eyes Straight Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending his mini-vacation on the space station of Holdfast, Eridan has one last encounter with the man-out-of-time Dave Strider before he gets back aboard his own ship. The conversation leaves him shaken, but delving into his work and a short nap bring Eridan back to calm waters. 
> 
> A short conversation with the Fleet Admiral and the Empress of Flowers leaves Eridan with a bounce in his step and hope for a good meal.

The feel of the leather is so familiar underneath your hands. Hard, stretched over the curved frame… even the stitching is accurate and when you run your fingertips over the lines, you can feel the way the stitches fold the leather together tightly. Even though it’s been years, decades even, since you sat in a place like this, you don’t have a moment of hesitation.

Wind pulls at your hair now as it used to then. You almost wish you had one of your scarves from your youth to have it whip through the air as well. Smiling, you turn your head enough to glance to Roxy, to see her expression. She was space born and slave raised, unlike you. Riding in an ancient Earth styled cadillac like this one was sure to be an new experience for her.

The wheels were screaming down the highway that stretched endlessly before you. There was a blurring to the trees and buildings that you passed. You hadn’t started this fast, but sometimes the only way to get through the nostalgia was to burn through it.

Once you got a good look at Roxy, though, a stab of concern shot through the pleasant feeling that driving had always given you. She looked greenish, with a sheen of sweat on her forehead and her lips pressed tightly together. You let off the gas for a moment, starting to slow down. “Rox?”

Even though the wind is still roaring around you, you know she hears you because she looks back at you and her eyes focus. She tries to smile and guilt creeps up inside of you. You reach out to her and say, “Rox, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice is shaking. She pats your hand and her palm feels clammy. “Really. You keep having fun, hon!”

“Roxy,” you hate it when she placates you like this. It’s so obvious too. “I shouldn’t have taken you so fast.” You reach up and cup her cheek. “I’ll stop and let you out.”

She looks away. Suddenly her hand jerks up and grabs at your arm. “Eridan! A tree!”

“Wha-?” You barely turn your eyes back to the road in time to even see that the car has left the asphalt and is headed for an enormous tree. The front end of the cadillac crumples like tinfoil and you’re sent flying forward over the windshield.

In the next moment, you’re blinking, dazed, and staring up at the gridded ceiling of the VR room. There’s sweat on your skin and your heart pounds in your chest. Slowly, you sit up and look around. Dirk is to your left. He’s kneeling beside Roxy, concern all over his face. He helps her sit up and frowns when she makes that same smile she just made to you. “I’m fine,” you hear her say clearly, “Really. I’m just a little nauseated from the drive.”

Dirk helped her to her feet, holding her hand the whole time while you sat there and watched. Roxy was the first to turn to you. As you met her gaze, you saw a sliver of something unusual there. You wouldn’t have been able to name it if you hadn’t seen it in Dirk’s face just the day before.

There was a moment of fear in her pretty pink eyes and that fear was directed at you.

Getting to your feet on your own, you brush yourself off. Roxy hurriedly comes to your side, bringing Dirk with her. Her fretting is stopped when you lift your hand and cover her mouth with your finger. “I think we’re done fooling around on the station for today. Let’s get back to the ship. I’m sure there’s plenty for me to take care of and you do need to oversee the division of food supplies, Rox.”

You feel her kiss your finger and she nods her head. With a sigh, you turn and lead the way out of the VR room. You miss driving, you really do.

_“You sure you’re still good to drive?” His voice was soft. He didn’t want to wake the others in the back. “I can take a shift at the wheel, man.” The moon lit the world outside that beat up jeep you bought third-hand from some guy Jade knew. The sound of three people sleeping in the back accompanied the hum of the engine and the soft whisper that was the nearly silent radio._

_“I’m fine. I enjoy driving.” You had to be careful not to glance at him because you would look too long. Whenever you looked away from the road you inevitably started to drive off of it. “You can go ahead and sleep, Strider.”_

_“Dave,” he said, yawning and putting a pillow behind his head. “We’ve been driving in a car for nearly three days together. Just fucking call me Dave already.”_

_You’re quiet for a while and try not to smile when you finally whisper, “Goodnight, Dave.”_

_You nearly drive off the road when you turn to look at him sleep, but you catch yourself in time._

“Admiral?”

Blinking, you looked towards the voice. It was Dirk and he was gesturing down the hall. You look around quickly. Where were you again? You had been lost in your thoughts as you left the VR room, and hadn’t been paying attention to where you walked. As far as you could tell you were near a large loading area or a warehouse. You stood in a hallway that overlooked a room full of trolls and shipping containers.

Dirk was gesturing towards Commander Serket, who had caught sight of the three of you as well and was walking over. She had an entourage with her, though from the stripes on the sleeves, these were subordinates in charge of supplies. Serket herself held a tablet that she tapped a few times before passing off to another troll. She waved them off as she neared you, and suddenly you were aware that trolls weren’t the only ones accompanying her.

Dave stood a few feet behind her, wearing the clothes of a slave. They were clean and obviously well made, but they were a slave’s clothes none-the-less. He hadn’t learned any proper mannerisms, you could see that clearly enough. He kept meeting your gaze and glared at Serket when she told him to wait there a moment.

She approached you, smiling. “A pleasure to see you today, Admiral. I’ve heard that you enjoyed some of our sushi last night. Diford was thrilled that such a discerning palate as yours would appreciate his humble preparations.”

“The pleasure is mine,” You reply, “And I’m grateful for his skill. It has been a long time since I’ve enjoyed such finely made sushi. Still, I’m surprised at the quality of fish. Rarely do fish mature as well in space hatcheries as they do even on planetary ones.”

“That is very true. But here at Holdfast, we have a drive towards excellence. Even our smallest jobs are important to keep the station fully functional and a pleasure to live in.” Serket chuckled. “It’s important to us that our guests enjoy their stay here, whether they are top ranking admirals or the privates that work under them.”

“I know my trolls are always happy to dock here,” You say. “Unfortunately, we never stay quite as long as they would like. In fact, I’m headed back to my ship now.”

“Are you truly? That’s such a shame. Perhaps you’ll be able to come aboard once more before you have to depart.”

“Commander?” A troll came trotting up, holding a tablet. They stopped, saluted and handed it over, “My apologies, but this requires your immediate attention.”

Serket sighed and took the computer from him, “Of course it does. Admiral, excuse me, but my work seems never to be done.” She bowed her head slightly and turned to go. You offer a slight smile and nod as she leaves. You take two steps before you realize that Dave has yet to follow the Commander off to an adjacent corridor. He stands there, hands behind his back, staring at you for a moment before taking a quick step towards you. “Eridan,” he whispered, “Eridan what the fuck is going on here?”

Switching back to ancient English is a bit of a task so soon after a conversation with the Commander. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that he wouldn’t be able to understand your other conversations before now. You grit your teeth. You tell yourself you must be cold to him or he will only get his dagger-like words into your chest again. “You’re a slave on a space station four hundred years into the future. What’s so hard to understand?”

“That troll looks like Spiderbitch but she isn’t her.”

“Her name was Vriska.” You snarl out the name. “And Vriska doesn’t deserve to be called a spider bitch by a little shit like you.”

He’s taken aback for a moment but rallies himself. You see darkness in his features, in his eyes and the downward twist of his mouth. “Whatever. I don’t understand anything anyone has really been saying around me but there’s some shady fucking stuff going on, Eridan.”

“Admiral?” Roxy stepped up to your side, hand on your arm. “Shouldn’t we get going? Why are you talking to this human?” She pouts a little at you. “He belongs to Commander Serket, doesn’t he?”

Dirk steps up on your other side, “You should go to your master,” he tells Dave.

“He can’t understand you,” You sigh and shake your head. “Hold on a moment and let me finish talking to him.” Dirk frowns like Roxy, but both of them step back and let you continue.

“Dave, of course you don’t understand anything. This is the future and it’s not like you had any interest in this kind of tech before. You never even bothered to follow the lunar conquest reports.”

“Lunar...conquest…” Dave shook his head. “Don’t you mean the Moon Exploration Team? That wasn’t a conquest at all. I should know! Jade was involved with that.” He took a step towards Eridan, “You have to explain what’s going on properly to me Eridan. I’m sorry we fought but you can’t just… you can’t abandon me here!”

“You!” A troll shouted as they hustled down the hallway. They grabbed Dave by the arm and pulled him back. He staggered on his feet but fought against the pull. “I’m so sorry Admiral, the Commander had thought that this one had followed her like he was told to do.” The troll turned to Dave and growled, “What are you doing, talking to the Admiral like that? You are just asking for trouble.”

“Let go of me,” Dave snapped back in rough ancient Alternian.

The troll blinked in surprise. He looked to you in his confusion and said, “That… that was almost Alternian? What kind of language does he speak, Admiral?”

You don’t smile as you reply to the troll, “Ancient tongues. They don’t matter anymore. Just teach him proper Alternian so he can function in society for once in his life.” Your lip pulls back in a silent snarl as you turn to Dave, “I told you what your options were, Dave, and you were the one who asked for this one. Enjoy this life of yours, it won’t last forever.”

Turning your back on him, you begin to walk back down the hall that you came from. Dirk and Roxy are following close behind. Your heart is beating in your chest but it comes to a screeching halt when you hear Dave shouting at you, “How did I hurt you enough for you to abandon me like this? Eridan! Please! _I’m fucking scared!”_ You stop in the hallway. You almost turn around but Roxy grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly.

You’re shaking once you’re in the elevator again. There’s another group of trolls that need to get in, but Roxy shoos them away and Dirk closes the elevator doors on them. You lean against the wall, hand pressed over your mouth and eyes closed tightly.

Roxy is at your side, brushing your hair back with her fingertips. You can feel her warmth as she leans against your side. You can feel Dirk standing close on your other side, but he doesn’t touch you. Neither one of them says a thing as you ride the elevator together.

Finally regaining your composure, you step out of the elevator feeling nauseated from riding it for so long and walk slowly down a corridor. This one leads towards your ship as the other one did, but in a more roundabout route. By the time you’ve made it back to the airlock, you’re no longer feeling that sickness. You’re numb inside. Your mind is turning towards your duties, seeking the safety of your work. There’s no reason to think of a thin little human slave with faint freckles across his cheeks and bright red eyes that sparkle when he calls you a gorgeous fucking idiot.

“Rox, you have the kitchen supplies to oversee. See if they’re here yet.” You see her open her mouth to try and convince you otherwise. “Go. And. See. We’ll talk later.”

She hesitates but then nods. With a little smile, she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek and then parts ways with you. As you enter deeper into your beloved ship, you pick up a tablet to work on and stop several times to discuss with your head officers. There’s a skeleton crew aboard now, with most of the trolls on the space station to enjoy themselves. You expected this. It’s somewhat peaceful making your way up to the topmost level, where your rooms are.

In the end, it is you and Dirk alone in your rooms. You sit down at your desk, leaning back with your feet up as you review specs on your tablet. Peripherally, you see Dirk checking out the room. He touches things lightly, leans in to look at them and moves on. You see him running his fingers over the display sword that Dave had torn down for his attack on you. “That’s an ancient Earth blade,” you say casually swiping a finger over a document to scroll to the next section. “Warriors used to live and die by the blade and some honorable men held blades fashioned like that.” You pause for a moment and then chuckle, “Of course, dishonorable men held blades like that as well. There are all types in all worlds.”

“May I hold it?”

“If you want to. It’s a real blade though, so be careful.”

He takes it down from the wall and holds it out, his arm perpendicular to his body and the sword held out like an extension of himself. You look up, watching as he swings it around a little bit. He’s either a natural or he’s been trained. Considering slaves were forbidden professional combat training in all forms, that left you with two options.

“Fucking shady indeed,” Dave’s words come out of your mouth as naturally as they came out of his own. Dirk catches your words and glances towards you. He lowers the blade and then carefully puts it back where it belongs. He continues to explore your office while you get back to your thankfully occupying work.

At the end of his investigation, he asks your permission to explore the rest of your rooms. You allow this with a wave of your hand and ignore him as he wanders from the room. You lose track of time as you open your laptop to cross reference materials stored on there alone. A clink of glass on wood startles you into looking up. Dirk stands beside the desk, holding a decanter in one hand and steadying a glass with a couple cubes of ice in the other. He pours you a few fingers of alcohol before putting the glass stopper back in the top and walking off to take it back to the cabinet you keep it on.

Sipping the drink, you turn back to your work. Dirk makes himself scarce. Once you finish the drink and the work along with it, you get up and stretch out your spine and pop the bones in your neck. There's no sign of Dirk in your study nor is he in the small kitchenette that that stored a few snacks and your lesser quality alcohol. You open the door to your bedroom and are unsurprised to find that he had made himself at home in your room.

A shirt is draped over the chair that is by the table against the far wall and a pair of pants are pooled on the floor like a puddle of black ink. Dirk lays on your bed with his back to you and his legs tucked up near his chest. For a while you simply watch him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest is somehow soothing to you. As you approach the bed, you peel off your own excess clothing. Shoes and belt, jacket and shirt, you discard these things on the floor without a second thought. You leave your glasses on the nightstand and get onto the mattress. Dirk is closer to the edge of the bed than you'd like, but your find no trouble in climbing over him and lying down beside him nearer to the wall.

Eyes closing slowly, you tuck one arm behind your head and let the other idly reach towards Dirk, your knuckles resting against the back of one of his arms. Drowsiness overcomes you and so you slip into a light sleep.

* * *

The hand that shakes you awake is warm. You blink awake slowly, rubbing at your eyes as you sit up in your bed. Your glasses are pressed into your hand and there’s Dirk’s voice speaking to you, “I’m sorry to wake you, Admiral, but you’ve got an incoming transmission that requires your immediate attention.”

“Eh?” You put on your glasses. Dirk is sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed. He offers a slight smile as you pull back the sheet he must have draped over you and get out of the bed. “Who is it?”

“The Fleet Admiral, sir.”

“What?!” You spare a moment to gape at him. “Fuck. How long has he been waiting? Fuck! Where are my clothes?” You dress as quickly as possible. “Where’s the transmission being streamed to?”

“Your personal computer, in your study, sir.” Dirk opens the door for you. You rush past and to your desk. The screen is indeed on and on the other side of it is the scowling face of Karkat Vantas, the only troll to rise through the ranks faster to the highest position possible save for the seat of the Empresses themselves. You sit down, folding your hands together. He might be half your age, and you might remember seeing him come fresh out of the academy to be one of your own crew, but seeing him in his regalia kept your tongue from wagging in an informal tone. This call was strictly business.

“Admiral Vantas, please excuse my tardiness and my appearance.”

“I couldn't give two fucks about how you look, Ampora. This isn't a beauty pageant and I’m not here to award you points for your attendance.” His lip pulled back slightly as he spoke, baring his blunt teeth to you. You shiver slightly, but squelch the black interest. Vantas had all his quadrants full and you were second rate to those who filled them. His fingers moved briefly and you could just see the edge of the tablet he held. “I’m transferring you some documents right now. They've got the details of your next routes.

“As usual, you've got several paths to choose from, whichever you think is best. Just as long as you are at the destination at the required time.” As he spoke, an icon popped up on your screen alerting you to a document waiting to load onto your computer. You accept and minimize it.

“I understand, Admiral. Is there anything else? You don’t usually contact me face to face just to give me orders…”

The camera shook for a moment and a second later, a youthful, bright eyed face appeared on the screen. Pearls and small flower buds hung among black curls that framed a grey skinned face with large purple eyes. “Eridan! It’s been so long since I've seen you last! How are you doing?”

You flush automatically. “Empress Florea, it’s always a pleasure to see you. To what do I owe this great honor?”

Florea pushed Karkat out of the way, laughing when he grumbled and gave up his seat for her. Tucking a bit of hair behind a beautiful fin, Florea smiled, “Karkat is escorting me to one of the planets that you’ve recently visited. We’ve designated it as as Cronus-22, and we’re planning to set up a terraformation there for -- oh! You have a human?”

You blink and turn to see where she is looking. Standing just barely within the camera’s frame is Dirk. He’s standing as stiff as marble, eyes slightly widened. He stares a couple seconds at the screen, looking Florea in the face before his eyes break away to you and he bows deeply. Sighing, you turn back to Florea and gesture to Dirk. “This is Dirk. I’ve recently acquired him at Holdfast. We’re actually docked here currently.”

“Ohh~” Florea leaned in closer to the camera until the screen was mostly her face. “Come closer little Dirky~ Come on, I won’t bite~”

“Dirk,” You say softly to him. You watch as he stops from bowing and approaches your side. You move the chair you’re sitting in to give more of the camera to him.

“Eridan~” Florea spoke softly, her eyes were half lidded and her smile so wide, “Lift his chin? I’d love to see what kind of eyes he has…”

You reach up and tilt Dirk’s face up with a fingertip. “Eyes open.”

Dirk’s amber eyes flicker open. He stares forward, unblinking, for several seconds. They’re unbelievably tense as you first look at him and then back to the screen, where the Empress stares back with that broad smile that shows just a hint of her sharp teeth behind reddish purple lips.

“What lovely eyes… Burning brightly like the hot sun of Mother Earth…” Florea leans back slowly. “Your first human thrall is a lovely one, Eridan. I will have to send you a congratulatory gift sometime soon. When we cross paths again, which I’m sure we soon will.”

She suddenly drew back, turning to address Karkat. “Beloved, I’ve got to go~” She kissed his cheek and bounced out of frame. Karkat blinked for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Anything to report on Holdfast? I haven’t been out there since Commander Serket took it over.” He gave a slight smile, “Tell me, does she live up to the Serket name?”

“Holdfast is a marvel, Admiral,” You reply, lowering your hand from Dirk’s face. You ignore the way he steps out of frame and then out of the room entirely. “You should visit sometime soon.” Testing the waters for banter, you give a smile in return and say with a little coyness to your tone, “I personally recommend their honeymoon suite. I didn’t have a single complain when I stayed there and both the shower and bath are big enough for two… or more.”

Karkat flushes across his cheeks just as badly as he used to when you teased him as a Lieutenant under your command. “Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. I think we’re done here, Admiral. Remember, do not be late to the rendezvous.” The connection went dead a second later.

Leaning back, you shake your head. Ending a conversation with the Fleet Admiral with a smile was the best possible outcome. You allow yourself to feel smug for a while before turning to the file that was sent to you. Tapping it open, you scroll down about two thirds of the way through the message and then stop. Decoding it in your head takes a while, but soon you have the coordinates and the stardate for the window of arrival.

Closing your computer, you get up and stretch out your spine again. “Dirk?” You call out, “Let’s go get something to eat, hm? I’m famished.”

He appears seconds later, smiling slightly and without a complaint as you pause in your departure to cup his cheek in  your hand and take a gander into his amber eyes yourself. Florea was certainly right. They burned bright as the sun of Ancient Earth. Patting his cheek, you lead the way out of your rooms with a slight bounce to your step and hope for a good meal on your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the third part of the Admiral Ampora series. From here on out the drama gets cranked up as rumor of rebellion and unrest push Eridan from casual exploration of semi-known space into the thick of the trouble.


End file.
